A Fragile Heart (BBW Billionaire Light Romance) (10 page)

"Look, I don't know if you can understand English, but I'm not rich, okay?” she said. “I'm just an office worker from London.”

There was silence in the car. Elena tried again.
 

“If you think that someone is going to pay you huge amounts of money to let me go, you’re wrong.”

But there was still no response. Elena decided she must try again, one final time.

“I’m in Sorrento with Guy Silver, that's right, but it's only casual. We're not serious or anything. He's not going to pay you any hostage money to let me go, you know ...”

There was a brief conversation between the two men, and Elena wished she could understand even a word of Italian, but it all made no sense to her. She sank back on the seat, trying to control her shaking, which was becoming worse, and closed her eyes.

The car slowed down and Elena saw that they’d approached a pair of large wrought iron gates which stood open, with a gravel drive beyond. They stopped at the bottom of a flight shallow stone steps, leading to a stucco yellow-coloured villa with shuttered windows either side of the entrance.
 

The two men got out of the car, and the driver held the door open for her. She allowed herself to be led, apprehensively, up the steps to the heavy wooden door, which was not locked and opened at a slight push.
 

She was led down a dim, marble floored entrance hall and into a large room on the left at the back.
 

Elena was dimly aware of the golden painted walls, huge mirrors and antique furniture. A female figure was standing looking out of the window at the far end of the room. She turned slowly, and even against the light, Elena was able to recognise the elegant woman she’d seen in that photograph with Guy.
 

Elena felt her knees give way and sat down heavily on the nearest velvet sofa.

The woman glanced at her, then began to speak to the two young men in a furious outburst. They shook their heads and attempted to answer, but she continued. Elena couldn’t understand a word of it, but it seemed that she was still angry with them as she waved them away. They shrugged and left the room, dropping Elena’s mobile phone onto a low carved table in front of her. The woman turned to a side dresser and poured amber liquid into a small crystal glass.

“Here,” she said, in perfect English. “Drink this, it will help to steady your nerves.”

Elena took the glass and sipped slowly. She had no idea what was happening to her, but as the brandy slipped down, the warmth spread and she began to stop shaking.
 

The woman was watching her closely, and Elena became aware of just how beautiful she was. Tall, slim and elegant, with olive skin, high cheekbones and dark hair drawn back into a chignon. In her black dress and silver hooped ear-rings she looked just like someone from the Royal Ballet.

“I apologise, Elena,” she said. “I asked my young cousin to invite you to come here today because I wanted to meet you. Unfortunately, he and his idiot friend thought they would play out some silly Mafiosa fantasy game. I can see they have frightened you.”

The world was not making sense to Elena. Here she was, still shaken, being comforted by this mystery woman who was obviously well-known to Guy. Her day was going from one confusing turn to another and she could feel her anxiety levels begin to rise again.

The woman came across and sat beside her. She held out a slim hand and smiled.

“As I said, I’m sorry you have been frightened. I am Chiara. Has Guy mentioned me?”

“No,” Elena replied. “But I don't understand what’s going on. Why am I here?”

“Since things have gone a little wrong today, I must explain,” Chiara said. “I wanted to meet you. I was intrigued because I have Guy's best interests at heart. You’re not what I expected. When I knew that he had invited you onto the boat, I thought that maybe you might be some silly celebrity or gold-digger, but now I think that’s not the case.”

Elena could feel her anger beginning to rise – who was this woman to question whether she had a right to be taking a holiday with Guy and to judge her motives? And how dare she assume that she could summon Elena to meet her like this?

“I suppose what you really mean,” Elena replied, “is that I’m not slim or pretty or in any way attractive enough for Guy. But I'm not interested in taking his money or luring him into an unsuitable arrangement, if that's what you think. I care about him, but I don't see what business it is of yours. Who are you anyway?”
 

Elena sank back into the sofa confused and exhausted.

“I am Guy's mistress.”

Chapter Sixteen

It took a few moments for the words to make sense in Elena's muddled mind. She gazed at this sophisticated, assured, beautiful woman, as the truth finally began to sink in.

“That probably sounds a bit of an out-dated description,” Chiara continued, “but it’s the only word I can find at the moment. Tell me, has Guy told you about his divorce and the reason for it?”

Elena nodded. “Yes, but I don't want to discuss that. I don't see how you have the right to question me. I just want to go now. Can you arrange for me to be taken back to the hotel.”
 

“I will do that, but please let me explain a little first. I want you to understand about the past ...”
 

Chiara went over to a side table and poured two glasses of wine. She held one out to Elena, then sat down opposite her.

In spite of herself Elena began to be intrigued. Did this woman really know about what had happened in Guy's past? And how exactly did she fit into the story?

“I met Guy about a year after his divorce had been finalised. He was at an opening of a new art gallery with his business partner, Graham, who wanted to find some original paintings for their offices. I had a small stand showing my silver jewellery. At the time I was trying to scrape a living between odd jobs and designing and making jewellery. I’m half Italian and half English but was brought up in England. My husband had been killed in a car accident three years before, and I was trying to support my young son and my elderly mother who was pining for Italy.”

Chiara paused and sipped her wine. There was a look of deep sadness on her face at the mention of her dead husband, and Elena sat quietly, knowing that she must now wait for the rest of the story.

“Guy was bored with the art on show and came to look at my stand. He took an interest and asked lots of questions about how I designed and made the items. He asked me to go for a drink after the gallery closed and we found ourselves talking. We were both pretty damaged people. I was trying to cope with money and family difficulties, and Guy was still broken up after the divorce. To cut that part of the story short, he invested in my little business and found a workshop for me in London. He later also bought this villa in Italy where my mother could live and help bring up Gino, my son. “
 

I live here most of the time now and design the jewellery, which is then made in the London workshop. Thanks to Guy's investment, the business has done well and is almost self-supporting.”

Chiara paused, and Elena wondered if she was going to explain any further. She should really insist that she wanted to go, but at the same time, there was an almost fatal fascination in listening to this story about Guy's past.

“We became friends. In a way, I suppose we supported each other. Guy would often ask me to accompany him to functions where he needed a partner. People were always trying to pair him off, but he wasn't interested. He still felt too raw from the divorce. I suppose I was a sort of barrier for him from the attentions of women. An unattached billionaire is like a honey pot for some.”

Elena was listening intently now. It all made sense; she could imagine that Guy had tried to shut himself off from relationships after Olivia. Despite herself she knew that she wanted to hear the rest of Chiara's account.

“As time went on we became close. We have an understanding. Guy will ring me, sometimes at short notice, and ask me to join him when he needs a partner. I’ve been all over the world and he provides me with a generous allowance for clothes and so on. I need to look good.”

“And did you sleep together?” the words had slipped out before Elena could contain herself, but what had she got to lose now, she asked herself. She needed to know the whole truth.

“We didn’t at first,” Chiara replied. “But sometimes, after an evening out, a good meal and lots of champagne, we would find that we had been booked into the same suite at a hotel. Guy is a normal man, with normal needs. He never wanted casual sex or to sleep around, so it suited us both occasionally to sleep together.”

“So you think that gives you the right to vet anyone he meets?”

For the first time, Chiara looked a little uncomfortable. Until that moment, she’d seemed so self-assured. She took a slow sip of wine, giving herself time before she answered.
 

“We agreed early on that either of us could have any casual relationship we wanted, but that if we found someone we might want to get serious about, then we would simply go back to just a business
 
arrangement, and remain friends. One thing I’m sure of, Elena, is that I don't want to see Guy hurt again after he’s been so good to me.”

“How long have you been keeping track of me?” Elena asked. “How did you know we were in Sorrento?" She was still struggling to understand just what was happening to her.

“Christos is married to one of my cousins,” Chiara explained. “Guy gave him the job on the boat, so he let me know. Guy has never taken time off work like this since I’ve known him, and you’re the first girl he’s taken away alone on the boat. It’s so unusual. Christos thinks he’s in love with you. So I wanted to meet you. I admit I was curious. I can only repeat that I owe Guy a lot and just want to protect him.”

Elena stood, taking her handbag from the coffee table. She was afraid that she might break down and cry, but didn't want to expose her feelings in front of Chiara.

“I think he’s quite capable of looking after himself,” she said, as coldly as she could. “I want to go now and I'd like my phone back please. And don't worry, if anyone's going to be hurt in all this it’s probably me.”

§

The drive back was uneasily quiet. The two young men sat in the front of the car, occasionally mumbling to each other, both careful not to look at Elena, who sat in the back, clutching her bag tightly to her chest. And as soon as they stopped at the front of the hotel she jumped out without a backward glance. She just wanted to reach the security of her room and try to sort out her damaged, shattered emotions.

Elena sat on the bed and finally let the tears come, spilling down her cheeks as she sobbed into her hands. There was an actual ache in her chest and she wondered if it was really possible for her fragile heart to suffer any more. The whole holiday was spoiled now –
 
the swimming in sandy coves, lying on deck looking at the stars, the drive to Amalfi – it had been just magical, being with Guy, getting to know him and gradually falling in love with him. But all that time she’d been
spied on
and their activities reported back to Guy's mistress. The situation was just unbelievable. She’d trusted Guy and he had hidden the truth from her.

Elena pulled open the drawers in the dresser and flung open the doors to the wardrobe. There they were, all the designer clothes she’d brought from the boat. For a moment she trailed her fingers through the expensive materials – she would leave them all here at the hotel she decided.

Next she checked the safe to make sure the money was still there and opened the exquisite leather box to see that the gold torque still nestled in its bed of red velvet. That too would stay.
   

She put her passport into her handbag and checked that she had her purse and credit card. After a last look round the room, she noticed the coral bracelet lying on the dresser, and for a moment she hesitated. Then with a shiver of sadness she pulled the delicate circlet onto her wrist.
 

My only memento of Italy
, she thought.

As soon as she managed to get her tears under control, Elena went down to reception and asked for a taxi to be arranged. The receptionist smiled and asked where she wanted to go.

“Naples, the Museum,” Elena replied.

When she got into the taxi, she leaned forward as the driver pulled slowly out into the Piazza.

“Take me to the airport,” she said.

Chapter Seventeen

As she let herself into the tiny apartment, Elena looked around with dismay. There was no sign of Josh, but the place was in total chaos: unwashed mugs and plates, clothes and lager bottles on the floor, drawers pulled out as if ransacked. It was more than she could face right now, and Elena went to the fridge to find a bottle of wine still half-full. She poured herself a large glass and drank it down quickly, followed by a couple of headache tablets.
 

Her bedroom was still as she’d left it and had escaped the mess of the living area. Although it was still only early evening, Elena rummaged in her chest of drawers, pulling out a pair of warm pajamas. The flat felt cold and damp after the sunshine of Italy and she crawled into bed sadly, pulling the duvet over her. At last, completely on her own, she could let her emotions take over.

 
She cried as she thought how her life had been turned upside down since she’d met Guy. It hurt to think of the gradual trust and understanding that she’d believed was developing between them and the growing love that she’d felt for him. And all that time he had been keeping the secret of Chiara, just a few miles away in the Italian countryside.
 

Why did he take me there
, she wondered, so near to that beautiful and accomplished woman.
 

Was there some perverse thrill he got from comparing Elena, with her pale skin and extra-rounded curves with his slim, svelte mistress?
 

It was all coming back, Elena realised: her lack of confidence in her looks, and her total distrust of men.